Perspective
by serenelystrange
Summary: They make it to Graduation, and life goes on. Stiles and Derek finally start figuring some stuff out. Set post 3B, going AU from there. Honestly, this is just a little slice of feels and happiness, because these poor people deserve some good!


.

They make it to graduation, alive and some approximation of well. Stiles is as surprised as anyone.

Lydia is Valedictorian, of course, with Danny finishing just a point behind her. It should have been Stiles' spot, he knows, but he can't bring himself to regret graduating fifth in his class when the past three years of his life were ripped out of a bad supernatural drama. Perspective is a bitch of a thing, he's learned.

His dad is in the crowd next to Melissa, and they're both smiling like fools. His dad's eyes are wet and shiny and Melissa is outright crying, leaning slightly into the Sheriff's shoulder. Stiles waves at them quickly from his place between Alyssa Smith and Adam Suderman before turning back around in his seat. He takes a moment to mull over Alyssa and Adam and their matching initials. Wonders if destiny is a real thing, wonders if they know each other beyond a passing familiar face. Shakes his head at his thoughts as the Principal finally takes the stage to get things going.

Scott catches his eye from a few rows ahead, his sweet but dopey grin extra shiny in the bright sunshine of the day. He can't help it, he smiles back, sad for a moment that their last names are so far apart.

Then the microphone gives a little jolt of feedback, alerting them all to the ceremony, and before Stiles knows it, he's officially a High School Graduate.

.

His dad has a barbeque for them all after the ceremony. The yard is strewn with folding chairs and blankets on warm grass, and the smell of burgers and hot dogs fill the air. Stiles sits on the steps of the porch and allows himself to reflect on everything around him, taking a few moments for himself in the middle of the loud gathering.

Lydia will have her own party, he knows, but for now she's here, reclining on their lone beach chair, legs thrown across Malia's lap where the other girl is perched on the end of the chair. They're laughing at something that Stiles can't hear, but they both look so happy that it makes his chest ache for a moment. He and Malia had dated for a while after the Nogitsune drama, when they were both trying to get control of their own bodies again. They'd taken control of each other, instead, and it had been good and fun, until it wasn't. Stiles had gone to therapy after that, and even if he had to edit out certain non-human parts of the story, it had helped.

Malia had run away again, back to the forest, the weight of her humanity too heavy for her bones. Scott and Derek had found her eventually, and convinced her to come back. She ended up moving in with Derek after she'd turned 18, the relationship with her dad being as stressed as it was. It's gotten better over the past year, but Stiles knows they have a long way to go. But Malia is Derek's cousin, and that was enough to ease everyone's mind about her moving in with a twenty-something man when she wasn't even out of high school. Peter has been trying to get into her good graces since the Nogitsune, but progress is slow.

They don't trust Peter, probably never fully will, but he had killed Kate when she appeared again, and made sure it was final this time. So, they keep an eye on him, but otherwise try their best to forget his existence. It seems to be working out.

Isaac had come back after several months away with Chris Argent, and thrown himself into finishing school as quickly as possible. It was weeks before he would even look at any of them, the loss of Allison too raw in his chest. But one day, he'd taken a good look at Scott's face, seeing nothing but the same grief in his eyes, and collapsed into him, sobbing out month's worth of tears. He'd been embarrassed afterwards, but Scott was too busy crying along to notice. Stiles had shaken his head at them and walked away to let them have their moment.

A few weeks before graduation, they had killed the Nemeton once and for all. It had taken every wolf on their team, an incredible amount of magic, and no small amount of luck, but they'd done it. It didn't make Beacon Hills immediately clear of things that go bump in the night, but the decline was already apparent. With any luck, the city would be damn near normal within a few years.

Derek had gotten the worst of it, practically flayed apart by the tree when it had decided to fight back. He had healed, but so slowly that for a while Stiles was legitimately concerned that he wouldn't make it. But he had.

Speaking of Derek, who has been sparse since said flaying, Stiles snaps out of his thoughts as Derek comes through the gate, latching it securely behind him. He's got a complicated looking platter of summer fruits in his hand, and dark sunglasses hiding whatever expression is in his eyes. He smiles slightly at Stiles when he catches him looking, so Stiles takes it as a win.

Derek put the platter down on the folding table with all the other food, slipping out the stack of greeting cards that had been resting on his palm under the dish. Stiles knows they probably all have checks with way too much money in them, but he won't embarrass Derek by making a big deal of it. Derek adds the cards to the small pile from the Sheriff and Melissa and some distant relatives of the graduates.

Scott sees him first, putting down the piece of cake he'd been gorging on to pull Derek into a brief but tight hug. Stiles can't hear them from his resting place on the porch stairs, but Scott grins and Derek actually ruffles his hair before cuffing him lightly across his head. Scott mutters something and catches Stiles' eyes, and what Stiles wouldn't give for superhuman hearing to combat distance and the top 40 music playing. But then Scott is shoving Derek's shoulder and he's walking towards Stiles, giving him a little shrug before settling down beside him on the stairs.

"Didn't think you'd come," Stiles says, regretting the words as soon as they're out of his mouth. "Not that you shouldn't be here, I mean, I just thought…"

"It's fine," Derek laughs, actually _laughs_, and Stiles is dumbstruck for a moment.

Derek just rolls his eyes and shrugs again. Stiles notices that he's forgone his leather jacket, and is wearing a simple blue t-shirt instead.

"Figured if I didn't show up, Lydia would probably flay me," he offers, wrinkling his nose at the prospect. "Congratulations, by the way." He knocks his shoulder into Stiles' but then doesn't move away, keeping them just barely touching.

"Only one flaying per year allowed, right?" Stiles jokes, smirking slightly to shake off the nerves of Derek's close proximity. There's a tense moment where he wonders if it's too soon to joke about it, but Derek just groans at his ridiculousness.

"You're an idiot," he says, but Stiles can't help but notice that his voice sounds something like fond.

"Yeah, well," Stiles says, mimicking a complicated cup solo, "you're gonna miss me when I'm gone."

He grins widely at Derek in a self-deprecating sort of way, and Derek is looking back at him, mouth set in unreadable lines. Stiles has never hated a pair of sunglasses so much in his life has he does in this moment. But then Derek just shrugs again, and really, when did their resident grumpy wolf get so chill?

"Probably," he says. "But it sure will be nice and quiet."

Stiles gasps in mock-outrage, trying to ignore the way his he knows his cheeks are flushing at the prospect of Derek missing him. He hopes his tinge can be blamed on the strong sunlight, but refuses to look away.

"Go play with your friends," Derek says, making shooing motions with his hands.

"Ass," Stiles replies, shooting him another glare before getting up. He hasn't gotten enough Scott time today, anyway.

.

Long after everyone has gone home and the yard has been cleaned up, he and Scott are laid out on the grass like when they were kids, looking up at the stars.

"I hate that you're leaving," Scott says, softly.

Stiles flinches at that, even though he knows Scott isn't being mean. Since Allison died, Scott hasn't been the same. He's still Stiles' best friend, and in Stiles' opinion, the best dude in the world. But he's more guarded now, not so blindly trusting as he had been. It's probably a good way to be, but Stiles wishes it hadn't come at such a price.

"First Kira left," Scott continues, sounding tiny and insecure in a way Stiles hasn't heard since Allison's funeral, "and now you're leaving."

"Hey," Stiles says, blindly reaching over to wrap his fingers around Scott's wrist. He can't bear to look at his face. "I'll only be a few hours away, and we can talk all the time. Plus, you still have Isaac, and your mom, and my dad, and Malia, and even Derek."

"It's not the same," Scott says, and he's definitely pouting, Stiles doesn't even have to look to confirm it, but he does sound reassured.

"I need to get out of here," Stiles says, so tired of pretending that he's not running away.

"I know," Scott says, "you deserve a break from this fucking town."

"You can come with me," Stiles offers, only half-joking, "we can hide you under my bed when my roommate's around."

Scott laughs at that. "I'll Alpha glare at him when it's dark. He'll think there's a monster under your bed."

"I'll come back," Stiles says. "When college is done, I'll come back for good. I promise."

"You'd better," Scott says, rolling over so that he's lying on Stiles' shoulder, arm draped possessively across his chest.

"Freaking werewolf cuddles," Stiles sighs, but he never does let go of Scott's wrist.

.

The first year of college goes by in a blur. Beacon Hills miraculously stays calm besides a few supernatural visitors that get dealt with quickly. Stiles visits for Thanksgiving and Christmas, spends Spring Break at school, helping out at the youth center on campus that he'd wandered into by accident a few month before. It's pretty standard college stuff, pamphlets and condoms and phone numbers to a million help hotlines. But he likes the quiet acceptance of the place, likes how most of the people involved really just want to help the students figure out how to be who they are safely and happily, no matter their story.

He meets Seth at the center when he wanders in the first time, curious about the section of campus he's never really investigated.

"Welcome," Seth says from the front desk, giving Stiles a disarming smile.

He's got jet black hair, streaked with turquoise, and brown eyes that Stiles can only describe as dreamy.

"Hey," Stiles says, internally proud of himself that he managed not to squeak while speaking.

"Hey," Seth replies, lips quirking up in amusement.

Stiles is ridiculously proud that he doesn't trip on his way over to the desk.

.

So, guys. Not something Stiles has really thought about much. Sure, he's had a crush on Ryan Gosling forever, but who doesn't? And ok, maybe his porn perusals have been split between guys and girls for a few years now, but that's perfectly natural. And alright, maybe he's had more than a few downright torrid fantasies about Derek and his frankly ridiculous body, but he's only human, ok? Doesn't mean he's gay. Or bi. Or whatever.

Shooting off like a rocket not more than a minute after Seth puts his mouth on his dick might, though.

So maybe he's got some stuff to think about.

.

"I've never been with a guy," he confesses to Seth a few weeks later, as they're sprawled out on Stile's bed, his roommate thankfully elsewhere.

"Kinda figured," Seth says, but there's no mocking to his voice. "We don't have to do anything," he continues, "I'm really liking this whole making out thing we've got going on, in case you hadn't noticed."

Stiles rolls his eyes, but presses down onto Seth, resuming their kissing. He's a few inches shorter than Stiles, but leanly muscled in a way that Stiles really appreciates when pressed against him. Malia had been soft and strong, and he had certainly loved the sex they had, but this was a whole new ballgame, and he wasn't sure where to begin. He'd only barely begun giving blowjob, and while Seth clearly enjoyed his enthusiasm, he knew his skill needed some honing.

"You could fuck me," Seth offers suddenly, looking up at Stiles and chuckling at his surprised expression.

"I mean, I like it both ways," Seth continues, "and it might be easier for you the first time, to be the one doing the actual fucking."

Stiles' spine tingles with the shivers the thought provides, and he finds himself nodding rapidly.

"Please," he says, and Seth laughs again before getting to work.

.

Stiles figures out that yes, he is definitely into guys at least as much as he is into girls. And that he also likes both fucking and being fucked. He and Seth have a fantastic few months full of sex and movies and lightheartedness. He's not entirely surprised when Seth ends things before summer break, but it still stings a little bit. He knows it's for the best though, they were never going to be more than this, and he's surprisingly ok with it.

Again, perspective.

.

He drives back to Beacon Hills for the summer, excited to see everyone, and to sleep for a solid week after his finals.

Scott is on him before he can even get the door of the Jeep shut, and he laughs into the tackle-hug.

"Missed you too, buddy," he says, ruffling Scott's shaggy-again hair slightly.

When he's finally extracted himself from Scott, he gets a much calmer hug from his dad.

"Missed you," Stiles says, holding tight.

"You too, kiddo," his dad says, squeezing one more time before releasing him. "Now go take a nap before Scott drags you away to that party at Derek's that he thinks I don't know about."

"Not cool, man!" Scott huffs, "it was supposed to be a surprise."

"Derek warned me weeks ago," Stiles laughs. "Something about 'these goddamn teenager taking over my house all the damn time'."

"Derek is a traitor," Scott says, but he's grinning. "Whatever. At least the traitor has a nice big house that we can hassle him at."

"Wait," Stiles says, "like a real house? When did that happen?"

"Around New Years," Scott explains. "It's not on the Hale property, but it's close to the woods still. He had it built from the ground up. It's actually really cool."

"How have I not heard about this?" Stiles asks, feeling oddly hurt.

"I think maybe he wanted to surprise you?" Scott says, "we all have our own rooms there. I helped decorate yours after Derek fired Lydia from the job. There were _paper lanterns_, Stiles. And like… twinkling lights."

"Jesus," Stiles says, waving his dad off as he gets in the car to go to work, "Just because I like taking dick doesn't mean I'm a pu…"

Scott's smack upside the head interrupts his little spiel.

"Too offensive?" he asks, wrinkling his brow.

"Little bit," Scott says. "And also, TMI, dude."

"Sorry," Stiles says. "About my dudebro comment, not about the TMI. It's your job as my best friend to hear about my sexual exploits."

"Go take your nap," Scott says, rolling his eyes. "I'll be back at 7 to pick you up. We're taking your car."

"Love you, too," Stiles says dryly, but heads inside with his duffel bag, fully intending to crash the moment his face hits the pillow.

.

Lydia has been home for a week, MIT letting her out a little earlier than the state colleges of California. She greets him at Derek's door with a tight hug. She's barefoot for a change, and her head presses right against his chest as she hugs him. Two years ago, he would have been dancing inside from that much contact, but now all he feels is a rush of fondness and an objective sort of attraction.

Isaac and Malia hug him at the same time, squeezing him extra tight just to annoy him, but he just laughs. There are some people that Stiles doesn't know, maybe friends from the community college the others go to, or friends from wherever Lydia gets her friends.

Peter is there, sitting on the arm of the couch in Derek's open and startling warm-looking living room. He nods at Stiles and gives him the customary leer that he's grown used to over the years.

Derek grins when he makes his way over, but doesn't move to hug him. Instead, he hands him a drink of something fruity and obviously alcoholic. Stiles takes a long sip before sighing happily.

"That's why you're my favorite," he says, laughing at Scott's indignant noises from the other side of the room.

"We should catch up," Derek says, just as Nicki Minaj starts blaring from the stereo system.

"Definitely," Stiles says, leaning in and knowing Derek will hear him, "when we're not surrounded by humans and Super Bass."

Derek laughs and nods, and Stiles wants nothing more than to kiss him into another smile.

And, oh. That's going to be a thing, isn't it?

.

They do get to catch up a few days later, when by some miracle, everyone else is off doing something else, and Derek has the house to himself. Stiles drives up, marveling again at the beauty of the house. It's humongous, but not obnoxiously so, painted a soft green color in the places that aren't natural wood. It has two floors and a basement, but is deeper than most houses, to accommodate the extra bedrooms Derek had required. Above all else, it looks welcoming, which Stiles never expected.

Derek meets him at the door, ushering him in. He's wearing sweatpants that dip low on his hipbones and a white t-shirt that contrasts beautifully with his tanned skin. Stiles takes a moment to sincerely hope that he hasn't been reading the signals wrong. Because he? Wants to climb Derek like a tree and never come down.

"Come in," he says, holding the door open, then closing it behind them when Stiles makes his way in.

They sit in the livingroom, across from each other on the couch, and Derek hands him a cold Coke in a glass bottle, settling back on the couch with his own.

Suddenly, Stiles feels awkward and nervous, heart thudding in his chest at double-time. He's not sure what to say, and finds himself drumming his fingers non-rhythmically against his knees.

Derek raises an eyebrow at the sudden uptick of his heart, but chooses to say nothing.

"Tell me about college," he says instead.

"Oh, dude," Stiles says, lighting up, "college is awesome! I mean, the work can be a lot, and living with Fred the Silent Goth is kind of weird, but it's mostly awesome. I'm liking Criminology so far, but I'm not sure what I'm doing with it yet. And oh! There's always parties going on, and you don't even have to know anyone to just wander in and be handed a drink. It's pretty great. And the food isn't as terrible as everyone warned me. The sloppy joe's are actually…"

"Are you seeing anyone?" Derek interrupts, blurting it out in a way that Stiles is pretty sure he hadn't intended to.

"Not anymore," he answers honestly, knowing full well that Derek can probably still smell Seth on him, even though they'd broken up almost two weeks ago.

Derek is suddenly a lot closer than he had been, though they're still not touching. And that, Stiles decides, will just not do.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, blushing slightly at how silly he sounds to his own ears. But Derek just nods and practically pulls Stiles into his lap before kissing him soundly.

Stiles doesn't mind the manhandling in the least bit, and slots his knees against Derek's waist, looping his arms around his neck to thread his fingers through Derek's hair.

He expected Derek to be aggressive and controlling in this, but instead he just leans back against the couch, pulling Stiles with him, letting him lead the kiss. Stiles takes his time in the way that he's thought about more than once, moving from the soft closed mouth kisses to tracing Derek's lips with his tongue until he parts his mouth to let him in.

They kiss for what feels like hours, stopping to breathe here and there, but never letting go of each other. It's only when Derek moves to suck a mark into his neck that Stiles realizes he's been rutting his hips unconsciously. He stops, embarrassed that he hadn't even realized he'd been doing it.

Derek digs his fingers into Stiles' hips and looks up from his neck in confusion.

"Why'd you stop?"

"_Fuck_, _Derek,"_ Stiles laughs as Derek pushes up to meet him grinding down. "Just didn't want to come in my pants like a teenager. It's embarrassing."

"You are a teenager," Derek reminds him, looking absolutely unrepentant about that fact. "And why not? I plan on doing the same thing. This time, anyway."

"_Fuck," _Stiles repeats, leaning his neck back so Derek can go back to the delightful nibbling and sucking.

"Later," Derek promises, leaving his neck to kiss his lips again.

"I am so holding you to that," Stiles says, tingling with the thought of feeling Derek's cock without all the layers involved.

He slips his hand under Derek's shirt and scratches lightly at his chest, surprised when Derek bucks up at the touch and lets his head fall back as he keens.

Stiles is sucking at his neck before he can even think it through, running his nails across Derek's chest again, hoping to get the same reaction.

He isn't disappointed. Derek bucks up again, and pulls Stiles down into him even harder. Stiles finishes sucking an impressive bruise into this neck, thumbing at the mark as it fades almost instantly. He frowns at that, wanting to leave a real mark. He tries again, grinding his hips faster as Derek's nails find his back and scratch at it with just a touch of claws. This time, he uses his teeth, biting down hard enough to almost draw blood, soothing the spot with his tongue in the next moment.

"Fuck," Derek gasps, and his head falls back again as he comes, moving one hand from Stiles' back to grip his hair as he shakes.

Stiles' eyes flutter open from their half closed position, the tug sending sparks right down his spine.

"Again," he pleads, his grinding desperate now. "Do that again, please, _fuck!"_

Derek doesn't even question it, just tugs Stiles' head back from his hair and bites across the mark he's already made, bucking up one last time.

Stiles comes with a head rush, sagging against Derek with the force of it, happy to never move again.

He settles back into himself after a few minutes, realizing that Derek is still holding him against his chest, sliding fingers against the back of his neck soothingly.

There's so much he wants to say, and so much that actually needs to be said. They need to figure out what they're doing. They need to figure out what's going to happen when Stiles goes back to school, and what to tell the rest of the pack. And most importantly, what this all means, and what they mean to each other. They need to figure out each other's perspectives.

Stiles lifts his head to say as much, but Derek's looking at with such happiness on his face, he loses the words in his throat. Instead, he leans forward and kisses Derek again, against his scruffy faced smile, and tries not to burst from the happiness in his own chest.

They can figure out the rest as they go.


End file.
